


you booze you lose

by intoxicatelou



Series: we have learned the footsteps [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Dancing, Dubious Consent, First Time, Frottage, Fuck Or Die, Jealous Tony Stark, M/M, Mutual Pining, don't drink asgardian home-brews, slight d/s understones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23759662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/pseuds/intoxicatelou
Summary: In August, Tony screws thepoochspiderling.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Thor, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: we have learned the footsteps [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713436
Comments: 16
Kudos: 173
Collections: What Fen Do (Instead of Going Outside), When Death Loves Flamingos





	you booze you lose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LearnedFoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/gifts).



> for LF, there is no one else I'd rather write my first fuck or die fic for <3 
> 
> thank you to aohatsu for holding my hand through this fic and brainstorming this entire series with me :) 
> 
> as always, comments and kudos much appreciated!!
> 
> *re-dated for reveals*

In retrospect, Tony didn’t actually think Thor would show up.

No one on Earth had seen the God of Thunder in over a year but Tony invited him and the rest of the Guardians to the events at the compound because, well, they were on the mailing list. But as much as Tony would love to see the team back together for something that isn’t world-threatening, he doubted gods and half-aliens checked their inboxes in space. 

So it’s not like Tony expected an RSVP, but maybe a little warning outside of Strange cryptically staring at the ceiling and muttering into his mojito would’ve been nice. Instead, he’s just as surprised as Peter when Thor materializes in the compound’s backyard, shattering the windows right in the middle of the kid’s eighteenth birthday party. 

“Man of Spiders!” Thor booms, dressed in jeans and flannel, looking painfully normal even with Mjolnir swinging from his hand. Tony de-activates his gauntlet, grateful that no one was standing too close to the windows, though Peter’s friend Ted looks like he’s about to cry into his cake. 

“Mr. Stark, you didn’t tell me _Thor_ was coming to my birthday party,” Peter squeaks from where he was standing in the living room with his mouth hanging wide open, obviously star-struck because right. Thor’s bulked up again and seems to have washed his hair, not to mention the whole _bristling with lightning_ thing. 

“Surprise?” Tony says, doing his best not to think about how they’ll have to totally redo the entire lawn and clean up thousands of dollars of what Tony had been told was bullet-proof glass.

 _Not god-proof apparently_ , he sighs. Maybe Tony is a little annoyed (or maybe more than a little) but he hardly has time to think about lawn maintenance or how to go about increasing the shatter resistance of glass windows. Peter is giving him one of _those_ smiles — all sweet and bright-eyed — before he’s wrapping his arms around Tony and pulling him into an unexpected hug. Tony can’t help but notice how fit the kid is, how warm he runs, even through the fabric of his t-shirt. 

“You’re the best, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, voice muffled where he’s speaking into Tony’s blazer. He realizes with a jolt that the kid’s wearing the Armani cologne he’d bought him for his high school graduation. _Acqua di Gio._

“No problem, Pete,” Tony says, schooling the warmth in his chest and breaking the hug with a tight smile. Peter gives him a look like he wants to say something, like maybe they should try to talk about why Tony’s still afraid to touch him for too long. It’s a familiar look, one that Tony’s been on the receiving end of regularly ever since Peter came back, whole and alive and still breathtaking in every way.

It was easy once. In the beginning, Tony used to repeat the mantra _he’s just a kid_ over and over again, hoping he would eventually get his shit together and his subconscious would let go of this irrational infatuation, if Tony could even call it that. It wasn’t a crush; it was just Peter doing funny things to his God complex. His self-denial had made it easier to let Peter further and further into his life. There was no harm if there was nothing going on aside from a little self-aggrandizing. There was no way Tony was actually in _love_ with a seventeen-year-old, even if said seventeen-year-old could school him in quantum physics, was devastatingly gorgeous, and stubborn-enough to do the right thing no matter what was at risk. 

“You really didn’t have to,” Peter says, softer now, swallowing back whatever words he might’ve actually wanted to say. 

If Tony were a better man, he would have said something a year ago, Peter blushing in the lab, his hand curved around Tony’s wrist in a silent confession. If Tony were a better man, he would’ve kissed Peter right then and never stopped. Because after Titan, after years of dust and dreams and nightmares, there was no mistaking just how badly he _was_ in love with the young man standing in front of him, but while almost dying had given him this strange clarity, it didn’t make the reality of his feelings for Peter any better. It was bigger than the age difference, than the power imbalance inherent in the fact that he’s _Tony Stark_ . It was the fact that even if Tony _had_ created time travel just to get the kid back, he’d been the one to let that same kid turn to dust on Titan in the first place. 

No matter what anyone says, Tony knows that’s on him and that he’s a long way from absolution. It doesn’t matter how he feels about Peter, the kid deserves better than him. Peter deserves someone who wouldn’t fail him when he needs them the most. 

“I know Norse Gods are all the rage right now for Gen-Z, but I still think the fact that I practically created a tiny quantum computer to upgrade Karen’s main schematics is a better birthday present,” Tony sasses with a smile that only half-reaches his eyes as Thor walks up to the both of them. 

“It’s not a competition, Mr. Stark.” 

“It’s always a competition with me, kid. I’m Tony Stark.” 

Peter opens his mouth to retort back, but Thor walks into the living room and announces his presence by yelling “PETER PARKER!” as he sweeps Peter off his feet and into a strong embrace.

“THOR!” Peter startles, a little breathless. “Could you, um. Put me down now?”

“Oh yes, sorry about that. I get a little carried away when there’s a born-day involved,” Thor says with a smile as he puts Peter down, one hand still on his shoulder. 

“You remembered?” Peter says, a look of astonishment on his face and a slight blush painting his features. 

“Of course I did, young spider! To reach the year of adulthood for your kind is a grand occasion worthy of celebration! ” Thor proclaims, and Tony watches as Peter drinks up every word. 

“Aw! That’s really nice Thor. Thank you for coming all the way from… space. Oh man, what’s space like? Did you meet any weird aliens?” Peter asks excitedly, rambling on. Thor laughs, leaning into their conversation. 

Tony walks towards the bar again. If he’s going to have to deal with more Thor, specifically more of how much _Peter likes Thor_ , he’s going to need another drink. Natasha gives him a grin as she mixes his gin and tonic, nodding toward where Peter and Thor are sitting awfully close to each other on Tony’s couch. 

“Even you can’t compete with a God from outer space,” she teases. 

“It’s not a competition,” Tony mutters as he takes a long drink. It’s not that Tony’s jealous. He doesn’t _get_ to be jealous. Besides, everyone on the team knows about Peter’s thing for Thor. It isn’t really a _thing_ -thing, more that there had been a rather heated game of Fuck-Marry-Kill at one of their team dinners where Peter hadn’t even flinched before responding that he’d fuck Thor if given the chance. 

Tony isn’t blind; he sees the appeal. But that doesn’t mean he wants front row seats to the action.

Tony’s halfway through his second jack and coke when Peter and Thor sit down next to him at the bar. He does his best not to audibly sigh. 

“What’s your poison, Thor?” Natasha asks, and Thor rummages in his pockets until he pulls out a bottle of almost-golden liquor. Tony raises an eyebrow, curious despite his irritation at seeing Peter and Thor together again. 

“I call this brew _Spider’s Milk_ , in honor of Peter’s born-day,” Thor says, proudly. “My Midgardian therapist said I should get a hobby so I’ve been learning how to distill spirits, trying to remake the fine Asgardian drinks of my youth. My father had quite a collection in the royal cellar.” 

Thor stares wistfully at the bottle in his hands, before handing it to Natasha. “Pour this into one of your extra tiny glasses.” Natasha pulls out a shot glass while Thor puts his arm around Peter’s shoulders. 

“And one for the young spider too,” he adds. 

“He’s eighteen, not twenty-one,” Tony interrupts, maybe a little snidely. 

“So?” Thor says, with a confused look. “I assure you the drink will do him no harm; his strength proves him worthy!” 

“Um, I think what Mr. Stark is trying to say is that the drinking age is twenty-one here,” Peter explains, fingers tapping against the bar nervously as he glances at Tony. 

“But it is your born-day! Surely, Peter can have a drink to celebrate!” 

“I don’t have any problem with a little underage drinking,” Natasha says, staring pointedly at Tony. “How old were you when you had your first drink, Tony?”

“You’ve made your point, Romanov,” Tony sighs, and waves his hand. “I was doing far worse things at eighteen, kid.” 

Natasha smirks, then fills two shot glasses to the brim with the drink. Peter beams as he takes the shot Natasha pushes toward him and adds, “Thanks, but my metabolism is so fast I’ll probably burn off the alcohol before it does anything. ” 

_Interesting,_ Tony thinks. He’d never considered how Peter’s spider-influenced biology might affect his ability to get drunk — or rather _not_ get drunk. 

Thor just laughs. “Peter, this is Asgardian liquor. It is a drink of the gods. I did not afford it the weaknesses of liquor made for mortal men. You will surely feel the effects and I do not doubt you will make your ancestors proud!” 

“Well, only one way to find out,” Peter says with a grin and raises his shot glass. 

“To Peter: may this year bring you strength and virility!” Thor bellows before swallowing his drink with a flourish. 

Peter tosses back the shot and Tony does his best not to notice the way his cheeks flush pinkas he swallows the liquor back with a slight grimace and a cough. “Wow. That burns.” 

Thor laughs again, before bellowing, “Another!” and slamming his glass back down on the bar.

“You too, Peter?” Natasha asks, refilling Thor’s glass. 

Peter’s eyes flit to Tony’s, hesitant but with something warm underneath. 

_He wants your permission_ , Tony’s mind unhelpfully supplies. He stands up. 

“You guys have fun. I’m going to get some air.” 

It’s bullshit and Peter knows it, but because he’s already a better man than Tony, he hides his disappointment as he turns back to Natasha. “Yeah, I’ll have another. Actually, I’ll take two.” 

Tony goes to the lab. He pours himself another drink while fiddling around with Karen’s new schematics again, and then another while revising a new sensory deprivation protocol for Peter’s going-away suit. In a few weeks, the kid will be at Columbia on a full-ride that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with how effortlessly brilliant Peter was. 

_It’s probably for the best_ , Tony thinks. College is busy. Busy enough that there was no way Peter could feasibly spend every weekend at the compound like he had all summer. Tony would see less of the kid, and for once it wouldn’t be his fault. 

Tony sighs as he grabs the bottle of scotch, this time forgoing his glass. 

Tony’s pleasantly buzzed by the time he makes it upstairs again. 

Well, the _pleasantly_ disappears almost immediately when he walks into the living room to notice Peter sitting half atop Thor’s lap, giggling as the obviously drunk god asks, “Do you lay eggs like your brethren, young spider?” 

Peter playfully swats Thor’s bicep, laughing. “Oh my god, _no_ — Mr. Stark!” 

Tony barely has a second to blink before his arms are full of one clearly _very_ intoxicated protégé. Peter hugs him quickly and tightly, this time his breath warm against Tony’s ear as he whispers, “Please don’t tell Aunt May but I’m _really_ drunk right now.” 

“Good thing you’re staying over, kid,” Tony says, trying desperately not to think about how easy it would be to fit his hands over Peter’s hips. Instead he settles for an awkward pat on the back. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. How much of Thor’s hippie moonshine have you had?” 

“Thank you for throwing me this party, Mr. Stark,” Peter hums, apparently drunk enough not to have registered Tony’s question, which is an answer in and of itself. The kid always listens to him. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Peter,” Tony answers, because it’s true. He’d throw Peter a hundred birthday parties if he asked. “Okay birthday boy, I think it’s time for a little rehydration —”

“Wow!” Peter takes a step back, interrupting Tony’s attempt at responsible mentoring. “I love this song. So much. We should dance!” 

“I don’t dance,” Tony lies automatically before Peter reaches for his hand again. Truth be told, the soft staccato thump of the beat coming from the song playing over the speakers is a little addictive. If Peter were anyone else, he might have said yes. 

“But Mr. Stark, Ariana Grande is like, the _queen_ of pop.” 

“Kid, I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that.” 

Peter just pouts at Tony, looking at the dance floor where a group of high school kids Tony vaguely recognizes have congregated into what he can only describe as an awkward bop circle. 

“Please _Mr. Stark,”_ Peter says, the undercurrent of heat undeniable even when he gives Tony his best, most impressive puppy dog face, biting his soft bottom lip and looking at Tony with wide, hopeful eyes.

And Tony can’t deny… he’s tempted, but also just sober enough to refuse to act on any such temptation. He crosses his arms, refusing to budge. “Sorry, kid.” 

Peter’s eyes harden, his pout falling into a scowl that Tony notes is still too pretty to be anything threatening. “Fine.” Peter turns to face Thor. “Thor, will you dance with me?” 

_Brat,_ Tony thinks, his annoyance barely veiled as he watches Peter give Thor the same look he flashed Tony a second ago. 

Thor’s eyes light up as he stands up off the couch and stares at Peter earnestly. “It would be my honor, Peter.” 

Peter doesn’t look at Tony again, just determinedly drags Thor onto the dance floor. 

Tony scoffs, turning away to pour himself another heavy glass of scotch. It’s going to take a lot more than a little dancing for Peter to get a reaction out of him.

It’s more than just a little dancing. It’s Peter in tight jeans and a thin white t-shirt shaking his ass for Thor unapologetically while everyone in the compound cheered him on. 

It’s a nightmare and a wet dream all rolled into one. As much as he wants to, Tony can’t bring himself to look away, despite the shard of jealousy tightening in his chest. It’s just that Peter is so beautiful, even if the hands on his hips aren’t Tony’s. He’s all lithe muscle, his body moving in perfect time to the sinful beat of the music. He’s on his second drink since coming upstairs, but Tony’s mouth still waters when Peter tilts his head back, exposing the long line of his neck. 

He’s half-hard, has been for a couple minutes, ever since Peter changed the game. The thrum of anger mixes with the pool of heat in his stomach as he watches Thor’s hands flex on Peter’s hips, pulling him closer. 

It’s not a competition, but somehow Tony’s lost anyway. Thor leans down to whisper something into Peter’s ear, something that makes Peter turn around to give him an easy smile. 

One of the smiles Tony thought the kid saved for _him_. 

Tony doesn’t wait around after that. He’s on his feet, stumbling a little as he walks out of the room. 

He runs a sobering hand over his face, leaning against the wall in the hallway. It doesn’t help, the reel of Peter’s dancing still flashing across his eyes and Tony knows that if he heads to bed right now he won’t be able to stop himself from wrapping a hand around his cock, nothing in his head but the memory of Peter’s ass shaking in time to the beat. 

He really shouldn’t spend another night in the lab, half-way to drunk and stewing in his own guilt. But then again, he also shouldn’t spend another night jerking off thinking about Peter, about the softness of his skin and the way his lips look, pink and wet from the liquor, especially when the kid will be sleeping just down the hall tonight. 

_Lab it is,_ Tony sighs, but before he can take a step further he feels a familiar hand circle his wrist. 

“ _Mr. Staaark_ ,” Peter sing-songs, and Tony turns around to see Peter’s flushed face just a few scant inches from his own. “Where’d you go? You didn’t dance with me,” Peter’s breath is warm as it fans across Tony’s face. 

“I don’t dance, kid, it’s nothing personal,” Tony lies again, and tries to take a step back but Peter’s grip on his wrist is just a little too tight for him to break. Tony frowns. If the kid was drunk enough to lose control of his strength then they might have a problem. “You doing okay, Pete?”

“I’m great, Mr. Stark, now that you’re here,” Peter hums, leaning forward to press his face into Tony’s neck, pushing Tony right up against the wall and pressing their bodies together so that Tony can feel the heat coming off of him. “Mmhm, you smell _so_ good.” 

“Thanks,” Tony says half-mindedly as his body freezes. Peter continues to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, the kid’s other arm coming up to wrap around him. His cock gives an interested twitch when Peter begins to press open-mouthed kisses to the underside of his jaw, but Tony’s mind is still reeling from how scorching hot the kid’s skin feels. “Kid, you’re burning up. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be better once you fuck me, Mr. Stark,” Peter murmurs, pressing his hips forward, the hard line of his cock unmistakable against Tony’s thigh. 

“What?” Tony blurts out, and he tries to move, putting actual force into this time, only to realize that Peter’s got him in a deadlock. He can’t even activate his watch gauntlet because Peter’s fingers are still wrapped around his wrist. 

“Please, sir. _Fuck me_ ,” Peter repeats, grinding his hips against Tony’s thigh to emphasize his words.

“Peter, kid, we _can’t,_ ” Tony tries, desperate. “Let me go, come on.” 

Peter doesn’t move an inch, just continues to rut against Tony’s thigh, panting hard before stuttering, “If—if you won't, then—then I'll ask Thor!”

Tony knows the kid’s drunk and delirious, probably doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he’s not sober enough to stop the anger from flashing through him. He slides the fingers of his loose hand through Peter’s curls and tugs sharply until they’re face-to-face. “What did you just say?” 

Peter just stares back at Tony, his pupils blown wide and his lips bitten pink. 

Tony’s never wanted to kiss him more. 

He’s about to demand Peter let him go, one more time, when F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts. “Sir, Peter’s temperature is 105.3 degrees and spiking. As per the _Needs Assistance_ protocol, I have bio-scanned Peter and it seems that he is feeling the effects of an unknown aphrodisiac.” 

Tony lets go of Peter’s hair quickly, his eyes widening in fear. Peter sags against him, sighing contentedly as he goes back to kissing Tony’s neck, though this time with a little more teeth. His hips move in slow circles against Tony’s leg as F.R.I.D.A.Y. continues her report. “If Peter does not achieve release within the next fifty-three minutes, he will experience life-threatening symptoms.” 

“Fuck,” Tony curses. He can’t deny how feverish the kid feels, skin hot to the touch and his t-shirt clinging to his back with sweat. 

“That’s the plan,” Peter whispers, practically a giggle, before going back to sucking a sizable hickey on Tony’s neck, the sensation going straight to his cock. 

“ _Peter,_ ” Tony lets out with a sharp groan, mind blanking out for a second. 

“I can’t wait until you’re inside me, Mr. Stark,” Peter murmurs, his hand rubbing at the hard outline of Tony’s dick over his pants. Tony can’t remember being more turned on in his life, but he also knows in the back of his mind that Peter’s insistent rubbing would start to chafe soon. He needs to get both of them out of their clothes fast, but there’s no way Tony can risk that while they’re still in the hallway, half of the avengers and all of Peter’s little high school friends just around the corner. 

“Kid, you have to let me go so we can go to my room.” 

“No, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, the tremor of fear in his voice palpable. “If I let you go you’ll leave me here all _alone_.” Tony hates himself for making Peter sound that way, but he really can’t take care of the kid in the hallway. 

“Pete, I won’t leave you alone but we need to get to the bedroom so you have to let me go —”

Tony stops talking abruptly, because Peter’s breath hitches in something other than pleasure. “You said we _can’t_ and so if I let you go, I’ll be alone and _I don’t want to be alone_ , Mr. Stark,” Peter rambles, and it doesn’t take long for Tony to figure out he’s crying, the dampness of Peter’s tears staining his dress shirt. Tony panics—in trying not to hurt the kid, he’s clearly hurting the kid anyway. Maybe he needs to try a different tactic. 

“ _Baby_ ,” Tony whispers, making the endearment sound as tender as possible. Sure enough, Peter stops sniffling a little, and Tony lets his loose hand gently run through Peter’s sweat-drenched curls. “Listen to me, I _can’t wait_ to fuck you.” 

“Y-You really want to?” Peter sounds nervous, despite how hard he still is against Tony’s thigh. 

“Of course I do, sweetheart. Just look at yourself, you’re _gorgeous_. Absolutely stunning _._ ” Tony isn’t even laying it on thick, because everything he’s said so far has been completely true. Even completely out of his mind, Peter is a mirage. 

“Mr. St-Stark,” Peter stutters, clearly flustered. Tony can feel Peter smiling into his neck. 

“I can’t want to open you up and fuck you loose on my tongue,” Tony feels a strange thrill from using his real fantasies to convince Peter to trust him here, even though he doubts he’ll have time to take care of Peter the way he’s always dreamt of. _This isn’t about you,_ Tony reminds himself. “Do you want that, Peter?” 

“Yes, yes, _please,_ ” Peter gasps, his hips thrusting a little higher, brushing right up against Tony’s own hard-on.

Tony takes a steadying breath, despite how good the friction feels. He has a goal with this conversation. “But I can’t do that here, sweetheart. I need you in my bed, spread out on my sheets, waiting for me to take care of you. Can you listen to me, Pete? I promise I’m not going anywhere. The door is just down the hallway.” 

Peter blinks, nodding slowly and tentatively lets go of Tony’s wrist. Tony hisses a little as he rubs the bruises that for sure won’t fade by morning. The kid still couldn't focus on his strength which could serve as a problem later. “Alright honey, let’s go. First door on the right.” 

It takes them a second, mostly because even though Peter’s content letting Tony’s hands go so he could key them into his quarters, the rest of his body is kept flush against Tony’s back as he continues to kiss up the side of Tony’s neck, still whispering about how much he wants Tony to fuck him. 

If he didn’t have years of experience, Tony’s sure that he would’ve come by now. Peter somehow knows exactly what buttons to push. The second they’re inside his room, Tony kicks the door shut and Peter steps back to pull off his shirt so fast that Tony’s afraid the kid’s going to break his neck. His jeans and boxers follow immediately after. 

Peter is left standing there, his cock curving upward the longer Tony looks. 

He’s easily the most beautiful thing Tony’s ever seen. 

“Mr. S-Stark, tell me what to do,” Peter whispers, after a moment, a trickle of sweat falling from his forehead.

 _This isn’t the time to look at him like you want._ Tony blinks, snapping out of his haze. He removes his blazer and toes off his socks and shoes before he walks a little closer to Peter. “On the bed sweetheart. Just get comfortable.” 

Tony notes how Peter’s cock twitches at the use of the endearment, a drop of pre-come sliding down from the head. Peter flops back on the bed, cushioned against the pillows with his knees open, and, well, that’s an image Tony’s never going to be able to forget. He takes a deep breath before asking, “Fri, time check please?” 

“Peter has forty-three minutes left to achieve release.”

 _Achieve release,_ Tony’s brain spins, stuck on the phrase. Even though Peter’s been begging for Tony to fuck him, Tony isn’t sure if, given the circumstances, he’s even aware of what those words mean. The kid’s probably a virgin and Tony feels a wave of guilt at taking that from Peter unless his life really does depend on it. 

“Okay, Pete, I’m going to try something,” Tony says as he sits on the edge of the bed, assessing Peter with dark eyes. “I just want you to listen to me and do as I say. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” 

“Y-Yes, Mr. Stark,” Peter breathes, his fingers twisting into Tony’s sheets. 

“I want you to touch yourself.” 

Peter wraps a shaky hand around his cock, and Tony swallows hard as Peter begins to jack himself off, not too fast, but not exactly slow either. Peter bites his lower lip, his eyes never leaving Tony’s gaze. “Is-is this good enough, Mr. Stark?”

“Perfect,” Tony finds himself saying. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” 

Peter keens at the praise with a low moan, his cock drooling more pre-come. 

“How does it feel, Pete?” Tony asks as he palms himself through his pants to ease some of his own discomfort. He really can’t remember the last time he was this turned on. 

“Good, really good, Mr. Stark,” Peter gasps, his eyes fluttering as he notices Tony touching himself. 

“Are you close, sweetheart?” 

“Yes, yes, b-but I need—” 

“What do you need, Peter?” 

“ _Please,_ Mr. Stark,” Peter begs desperately as his hand moves faster over his leaking cock. 

Tony’s vision blurs when he realizes what the kid’s asking for. He hardly recognizes his own voice when he says, “Go on sweetheart, _come for me_.” 

“ _Mr. Stark_ ,” Peter moans, loud enough that Tony’s grateful for the extra soundproofing his room has. Tony barely stifles his own groan at seeing Peter’s orgasm rushes through him, his body taut as come splatters all over his stomach. 

Tony waits for Peter’s harsh breathing to calm down, but after a minute, the kid’s still hard and panting. Tony frowns, crawling further up the bed until he’s leaning over Peter so that he can press a palm against the kid’s forehead. Peter leans into the touch with his eyes closed and lets out a sigh of relief but he’s still so _hot._ Tony thinks he might be even warmer than when they were in the hallway. 

“Fri, blast the A.C. and give me a status reading,” Tony says, frantic. 

“Sir, Peter’s temperature is currently at 107.3 degrees. It seems that masturbation has only accelerated the effects of the aphrodisiac. My preliminary analysis of the compound suggests that additional action may need to be taken immediately for Peter to counteract the life-threatening side effects.” 

“She means you have to fuck me, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers, his eyes blinking open tiredly. 

“Yes, my research suggests orgasm through penetration is the most effective —”“Enough, Fri,” Tony says, his voice shaking slightly as he looks down at Peter. Peter with his pink mouth and somehow even pinker nipples, come cooling on his stomach looking like something torn straight out of Tony’s wet dreams. 

“Please fuck me, sir,” Peter repeats, leaning up to press a kiss to Tony’s throat. His fingers reach to unbuckle Tony’s belt but Tony stops him. 

“Kid, have you done this before?” 

“N-No,” Peter whispers, “but _I want to_ , Mr. Stark. Please, please, _please_ —” Peter breaks off with a sob, big eyes wet as he continues to _beg_ and that — well that just won’t do. 

Tony shoves his almost nauseating sense of guilt inside a box and then shoves that box inside another box until finally, his hands don’t shake when he bends down to kiss Peter. 

The response is instant. The kid stops crying, fingers scrambling to pull Tony closer until Tony’s hovering above him. Tony kisses Peter like he’s always wanted to kiss him, firm and biting, licking into his mouth like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. Peter lets out a whine when Tony sucks at his lower lip, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. His cock is already jutting up against Tony’s stomach, pre-come making a mess of the t-shirt that he’s somehow still wearing. 

Tony gives Peter one last peck before pulling back and sitting on his heels, tossing his shirt to the side. He unbuckles his belt, doing his best not to make a show out of it but Peter’s mouth falls open anyway, his eyes hungry. 

“Update on the countdown, Fri?”

“Peter has an estimated thirty-two minutes, Boss.” 

Tony lets his thumb push against Peter’s bottom lip until he slides it into Peter’s mouth, letting the kid suck at it a little. It would be so easy to whip out his cock and feed it into the heat of Peter’s mouth, but Tony needs to last if he’s going to fuck Peter. _Next time,_ his brain thinks abstractly before he can help it. 

“You’re so pretty,” Tony murmurs, because it’s true. Peter whines at the praise as Tony pulls his thumb out of Peter’s mouth with an obscene pop. Tony bends down to kiss him again while using his now slick thumb to brush against Peter’s nipple. Peter arches his back, sensitive as Tony predicted, moaning into the kiss.

Tony rubs the nub in between his fingers until Peter’s cock is practically drooling between them. 

“Please, _please,_ ” Peter whines against Tony’s mouth, fingers clutching Tony’s sheets so hard he’s amazed they haven’t torn yet. 

“Fri?”

“Twenty-six minutes, sir.” 

Maybe they shouldn’t have spent so much time on the foreplay, but damn it if Tony didn’t want to try to make the kid’s first time a good experience even if they were on a time crunch. Well, as good as it can be with the obvious issue of consent, because despite how earnest Peter sounds when he begs Tony to fuck him, Tony knows none of this above-board in the usual way he’d want it to be. 

Tony presses a kiss to his cheek before he gets up to kick off his pants and boxers, his cock hard and red. He grabs a bottle of lube and a couple of condoms from the bedside table, before crawling back onto the bed lying next to Peter. Peter turns on his side to watch Tony give himself a couple calming strokes, licking his lips. 

_If only we had the time,_ Tony thinks again, his cock leaking a little at the image of Peter’s pink mouth stretching to fit him. 

Tony drizzles a generous amount of lube onto his fingers before leaning over Peter. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of the kid’s mouth. “Alright, this might feel a little weird, but I need you to relax, okay Peter?”

“Okay, Mr. Stark,” the kid hums, his legs falling open to give Tony better access. 

“Good boy,” Tony praises, and Peter blushes, still completely hard despite not being touched. _Now that’s a super-power,_ Tony notes to himself. 

Tony opens him up almost on auto-pilot, working his fingers fast and efficiently out of Peter’s hole. Luckily, he’s done this enough times in his life that the muscle memory is automatic because his mind is elsewhere, the box of guilt sliding open just a little. The kid’s barely legal and Tony _hates_ how good he feels knowing that _he’s_ Peter’s first, not some fumbling college freshman in a tiny dorm room. 

Because Tony can’t _deny_ how amazing it is to see Peter like this, with his lips swollen from the kissing and skin pink with a slight blush as he begins to fuck himself back on Tony’s fingers. It’s like the kid doesn’t even realize just how beautiful he looks, arching his back and moaning _Mr. Stark_ like this isn’t his first time in bed with someone. 

If Tony was a good man, he could be at peace knowing that he wouldn’t let this change their relationship. But he isn’t and that’s the worst part: knowing that when this is all over, Tony will remember and revere the finer details of this night even if Peter can’t. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, fuck, _”_ Peter babbles, nails digging into Tony’s back painful enough to snap him out of his reverie. He realizes quickly that he’s been brushing pretty heavily against the kid’s prostate while fingering him, which explains the incoherency. 

“I’m ready, Mr. Stark, _please fuck me_ , please, please—” 

“I will sweetheart. Just breathe, okay?” Tony murmurs, kissing Peter softly as he removes his fingers. Peter whines at the loss of contact, his curls damp against his forehead because at this point the kid’s practically a space heater. 

Tony reaches for the condom, but Peter’s hand reaches out to stop him. 

“Kid,” Tony warns, but Peter’s shaking his head aggressively. 

“Please, it’s m-my first time, and I want to feel you, Mr. Stark,” Peter stutters out. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

Tony doesn’t know what to say, because he’s clearly already booked a one-way ticket to hell. There’s no universe in which he can refuse that sentence, even if it’s probably the drugs talking and might be something Peter regrets in the morning. Right now, Tony can’t think of anything outside of the blinding fact that he should’ve been inside Peter approximately five minutes ago. 

“Mr. Stark, yes, yes, _yes,_ ” Peter moans, as Tony slides into him with a shuddering breath. He tries to go slow, he really does, but it’s hard with Peter moaning into his ear and his legs tight around Tony’s back urging him closer. 

“Oh, _kid,_ ” Tony says, wrecked once he finally bottoms out. 

He’s barely got a second to breathe before Peter’s begging, far-gone enough that there’re tears in his eyes when he repeats, “Fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me._ ” 

And so Tony fucks him. He fucks him hard and rough, fast enough that he feels his muscles protest but he can’t stop, not when Peter lets out a litany of _please yes oh god Mr. Stark_ at each snap of Tony’s hips. He knows Peter’s the only one who’s drugged, but Tony feels like he’s being driven by a feral need to please, to give Peter everything he’s been asking for all night. 

It doesn’t take long to make Peter come. Soon enough, Peter’s gasping, “I’m close, I’m close, _Mr. Stark.”_

Tony entangles his fingers in Peter’s hair. He pulls on the curls, making Peter’s back arch even further as he drives into Peter at an almost punishing pace. “Are you going to come on my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please _sir,_ ” Peter begs, even now asking for permission. 

Tony barely manages to whisper, “Go on, then,” before Peter is coming with a shout that sounds almost painful if not for the blissed out look on his face as his body shakes underneath him. 

Tony fucks him through it, his own hips stuttering as Peter’s walls tighten around him. He’s close, having been on the edge ever since the kid had cornered him in the hallway, desperate and beautiful and _begging._

“ _Peter_ ,” Tony moans, chasing his own release. He can feel it building, he just needs —

“ _Mr. Stark,_ ” Peter whispers, sweet and earnest in his afterglow. Peter licks his lips before he gives him a sweat-streaked, fucked out smile. 

_Mine,_ Tony thinks, before he comes hard enough he sees only white. 

It’s the best sex he’s had in months, maybe longer. For a minute, he just lies there shaking as Peter pets his hair, like this is something normal they do, like Tony didn’t just take the kid’s virginity while he was drugged. 

Sure, Peter’s temperature was practically back to normal, but Tony hardly feels like a hero.

He pulls out and Peter’s soft, almost pained, whine throws the lid off the box of guilt in his chest. Tony doesn’t want to look at how fucked out Peter’s hole must be, doesn’t want to see his own come dripping out, doesn’t want to be reminded of all he’s taken from the kid so selfishly. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, voice hesitant like he’s nervous, and Tony realizes the sound of harsh breathing that’s filling the room is coming from him. 

“I’m fine,” Tony says, sitting up despite the ache of his muscles. “Fri, did it work?”

“Peter’s temperature is 98.4 degrees. Bio-scan shows approximately 1.43% of the Asgardian aphrodisiac is still remaining in Peter’s system but my analysis predicts the rest of the compound should be flushed out of his system within the next three to four hours.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tony pinches the bridge of his nose as he stands up. Of course, this was Thor’s fault. 

“Mr. Stark, I don’t think Thor... meant to hurt me with the, um, Spider’s Milk? Because I was with him and he seemed fine. Maybe it was my spider-biology? Remember the first time I had caffeine? I got stuck to the ceiling of the lab and then you had to use the gauntlet — ”

“Yeah kid, I was there. I remember,” Tony snaps, even though it’s a harmless memory from before Thanos, and even a little funny in retrospect. The kid was stuck to the ceiling and Tony’d had to pull him down using the new nano compulsers in his gauntlet. They’d gotten him down eventually, but not before Peter pulled a chunk of the ceiling down with him, DUM-E frantically spraying the extinguisher at them both in the ensuing panic. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, curling deeper into the bed. 

Tony doesn’t meet his eyes, just bends down to pick up his boxers before pulling them on. 

“No kid, I’m sorry, it’s just —” He sighs, sliding a hand over his face as he begins to walk away. “I can’t do this.” 

“Mr. Stark —”

“Feel free to stay. You should rest, because even with your super healing, you’re bound to be sore. Fri can help you with anything you need. Happy will drive you back in the morning,” Tony manages to choke out, his voice firm as he grabs a robe from his dresser and ties it quickly around himself. 

Peter doesn’t say anything, but Tony doesn’t need super-hearing to hear the sniffle of tears coming from his bed when he walks out the door. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is part one of a six part series so please do continue to read on !


End file.
